


Wilbur Soot- flu

by ijustkindawriteiguess



Category: DreamSMP, Wilbur Soot - Fandom, philza minecraft - Fandom, tommyinnit - Fandom
Genre: Brotherly Love, Fluff, Gen, Sickfic, Vomiting, big man dadza, wilby scoot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 15:40:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29886762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ijustkindawriteiguess/pseuds/ijustkindawriteiguess
Summary: Wilbur gets hit with the bad end of the flu, not that there is a good endAnother request down! You guys have really been keeping me busy, and I really appreciate it!Thanks for reading! <3
Comments: 7
Kudos: 57





	Wilbur Soot- flu

In all Phil's years of parenting, he had never known someone get sick as much as his oldest.

You'd suspect it would be Tommy or Tubbo, due to their childlike nature.

But, put simply, the two ate a lot of dirt growing up, meaning they'd built up an immunity to pretty much anything you'd catch on a normal day.

When Wilbur got sick, it wasn't like when you just have the sniffles, take some paracetamol then go on with your day.

No- most of the time he would end up bedridden with chills or be too sick to move from beside the toilet.

Tonight, Wilbur found himself in one of these situations.

It had started with a full ache in his head, which he blamed on Tommy's endless conversations at varying volumes.

He also noted the fact his stomach felt...off. He couldn't exactly describe it but something just didn't feel right.

Tommy had noticed that Wilbur was more to himself throughout the day, and barely ate anything that was put in front of him.

He wasn't an idiot, he knew the signs after spending his entire life having to deal with each other's bullshit.

Phil also noticed the signs, but knew better than to persist. Wilbur never enjoyed admitting he was ill.

Tommy lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling. Across the room he could hear the sheets shuffling as Wilbur found it impossible to get comfortable.

Everything hurt. Even curling into a hall wouldn't resolve the stabbing feverish pains Wilbur was experiencing. That combined with the strong nausea, scarily high temperature and pounding headache made it impossible to fall asleep.

He let out a groan of frustration, curling closer to himself and clamping his eyes shut.

"Wilbur?" Tommy called out quietly, keeping his voice low. The teen sat up, genuinely concerned for his brother.

When he didn't get a response, Tommy's level of concern intensified. He stood, carefully stepping and avoiding any of the creaky floorboards.

He crouched beside the bed, placing a hand on Wilbur's shoulder. "What's going on?" He asked gently.

Wilbur flinched at the contact, whimpering softly as all his senses fought each other.

"It's just me, your little brother, Tommy." The younger male reassured, beginning to understand what was wrong.

Wilbur relaxed a bit at hearing that, taking deep, shaky breathes as bile built up at the back of his throat.

"I'm gonna go get Phil, alright? I won't be long." The teen left after that, silently stepping through the hallway towards Phil's room.

It never took much to wake him up, years of experience meant he could be easily woken up by any of his sons.

"Wilburs sick." Tommy simply stated, stepping back as Phil stood up.

The father stretched for a moment before quietly following Tommy back to their bedroom, his eyes instantly landing on the shivering 24 year old.

He could easily hear his son's broken sobs, and quickly knelt down beside the bed, rubbing his back and shushing him.

"Tommy, get a damp flannel and a bucket please?" Phil more demanded than asked, and Tommy left in a hurry, running the cold tap before soaking the flannel then squeezing out the excess water.

He returned as quick as he left, giving his father what he requested before sitting on the edge of his bed.

Phil gently moved Wilbur so he was lying flat on his back, before placing the flannel on his forehead, pushing his fringe out the way.

"Deep breathes, okay Wil?" Phil soothed as his son began to sit up, feeling increasingly nauseous.

The father was prepared, already moving the bucket into Wilbur’s lap and slowly sitting beside him, rubbing his back.

Phil placed the flannel on the back of Wilbur’s neck to try and help him cool down, not knowing how high the fever was but, considering the fact Wilbur’s shirt was drenched in sweat he guessed it was pretty high.

Tommy distracted himself by fidgeting with his bandana and the strings on his shorts, never much enjoying whenever his brother was ill.

Tubbo slept peacefully on the bunk above him, as he would often forget to take off his headphones before falling asleep. Quite the contrast to the scene across the room.

After a few minutes, Wilbur finally gave in, being reunited with the strange collection of food he had consumed throughout the day.

Phil grabbed the glass of water that always remained beside Wilbur’s bed, forcing him to rinse his mouth out and take a few sips.

“Let that settle for a minute then we’ll try and get you comfortable, okay?” Phil informed his sick son, who barely nodded as he hiccuped painfully.

“That really doesn’t sound like it feels good.” Tommy commented, shifting in his bed again.

Phil sighed softly, patting Wilbur’s back. “I’m sure Wilbur would agree that it doesn’t feel nice either.”

Wil continued to silently hiccup, jolting forward with each spasm. He placed his hand on his stomach, each hiccup more painful than the last.

Phil continued patting Wilbur’s back as you would a baby, just trying to soothe some of the discomfort so he could rest again.

After a few minutes, the hiccups finally calmed. Phil shifted the pillows and duvet so that Wilbur would be able to comfortably sleep sat up, something he tried to get all the boys to do when they were like this.

He also picked up the discarded blanket printed with a burrito on the back and covered his oldest as much as he felt necessary due to the fever, then opened the window and switched on the fan.

The older male silently left the room to empty the bucket, leaving Wilbur to pull his knees up and rest his head atop them, returning to taking shaky but deep breathes.

“Look at it this way, this is probably the worst part, you can only feel better from here.” Tommy reassured quietly, considering sitting beside his older brother.

Phil returned, the bucket empty and the flannel cooled. He placed the bucket beside Wilbur and placed the flannel back on his neck.

“You make sure you come get me if anything happens, alright?” Phil directed at Tommy, gently rubbing Wilbur’s shoulder and ruffling Tommy’s hair before leaving.

Once the door was closed, Tommy sat beside Wilbur, moving the bucket slightly.

The two didn’t exchange any words, instead they just silently enjoyed each other’s company. 

Wilbur drifted off into a light doze, and Tommy stayed awake until he heard his brother’s gentle snores.

Tommy rested his head on Wilbur’s shoulder, pulling his bandana up so it covered his eyes and then drifted off to sleep.

Yeah, they hated each other. Anyone could see that


End file.
